


Weld

by orphan_account



Series: Rush Summer [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Closeted Character, Culture Shock, Gen, Rush Valley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 04:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beyond a few healers, Lan Fan grants her body to no one. Even the man who crafted her automail merely measured her other arm and the stump of her left shoulder. When his gaze drifted towards her chest, she had to catch herself from shattering his jaw, and he must have recognised the not-so-subtle signalling.</p><p>And here, in a single second, Paninya has rendered her another appointment in the file. Has converted her to a broken series of scrap metal and twisted joints needing to be repaired. Has transmuted her into the tool she always was and will be.</p><p>-------------------------------------------------------</p><p>Or, in which Paninya manages to offend a four-thousand-year-old-plus spiritual and cultural tradition, Lan Fan observes someone play with her automail like it were not a part of her, and Akihi is not under any circumstances allowed near alcohol ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weld

**Author's Note:**

> Despite Rush Summer being written as a series of one-shots, it makes the most sense if you start from the beginning and read forward. Certain parts of it will be written as two-shots or three-shots with chapters for stylistic reasons. So, if this is the first "Rush Summer" fic you've read, please click up there to nab the series and start reading from the first part onwards.
> 
> The story so far: Two years after the Promised Day, Ling Yao and Lan Fan arrived in Rush Valley to visit only for Lan Fan's automail to break. Because the repairs will take a few days, Ling and Lan Fan are staying at Winry's newly opened automail shop. While the Elrics take their journey around the world, Winry, a polyamorous pansexual, is in an open relationship with Paninya, and they have taken on an apprentice, a ten-year-old Ishvalan boy named Akihi. Secretly, Ling has asked Winry to help Lan Fan, who has closed herself off in her two years in Xing. Winry's initial foray proved unsuccessful; Winry has a better idea.
> 
> This is a prelude to a major turning point, now that the main players' positions have been made clear.
> 
> Fun unnecessary fact: In this world, Aerugo is a dual country comprised of various groupings of people: The most populous speak Aerugan, the FMA equivalent of Italian; however, a significant number speak Aerugish, the equivalent of Spanish. While the two languages are distinct, it is possible for an Italian and a Spaniard to communicate, much like a Russian and a Ukrainian. The official language of the country is Aerugan. The nation, however, is large enough that the Aerugish have been petitioning for their own nation, somewhat comparable to the historic Muslim/Hindu conflict within India that led to the establishment of Pakistan. Part of the Aerugish-speakers, near Creta, also speak the FMA equivalent of Catalan/Valencian as well as other regional dialects.
> 
> The mythology story that Lan Fan tells will be important to the plot, but suffice to say that the concepts of sacrifice and duty have already been brought up. That story is a slightly altered retelling of an actual one, albeit not from the Chinese but from the Aztec. It's also based mildly upon a Ray Bradbury short story. Anyway, that isn't a creation myth for the Xingese so much as a myth of Lan Fan's people. As I've made clear, she's not strictly from Central/Northern Xing, near the capital, but is actually from the southern mountains. Hence, the myth of her people would centre around their homeland. As well, this partially explains why Ling isn't nearly as offended by Paninya; Ling also isn't the type to be offended by these things.
> 
> Winry and Paninya are cute girlfriends. That is all.
> 
> As usual, unbeta'd/unedited. I am actually in the process of hunting down a beta, though!

She watches Ling watch Paninya work. Akihi minds the shopfront, taking in orders for specific automail attachments or enhancements for old customers, writing down new appointments on the large calendar that hangs opposite the main desk, answering phone requests, occasionally calling over one of the mechanics to take a glance at a walk-in. Winry bangs metal in the other room as she kindly explains proper automail care to a repeat customer with a rusted lower leg. Lan Fan can hear her sincere laugh through the wall: “Of course, if you keep rusting my automail, you’ll be the one footing the bill. At least it’s rust, though.” She sighs loudly, and Paninya and Ling snicker in tandem as though connected by a thread of fate labelled _having known Edward Elric_. “Break it, and there might be a slightly bigger issue.”

The customer, a middle-aged woman with hair whorled up like a peahen nesting on her head, thanks her profusely. Her _chi_ fades beyond the outskirts of the shop, and Lan Fan glances back at her left arm lying in tattered silver-black scraps on the counter.

Paninya grunts. Earlier that morning she copied the schematic for Lan Fan’s automail onto a long sheet of translucent paper. Though the vassal’s fingers held remarkably still while she showed the detailed drawing, given to her by the Yao who built the automail for her upon her grandfather’s request, to the glittery-eyed mechanic, she grimaced from the vinegar taste that the betrayal to her people flooded onto her tongue. Paninya has assured her that she’ll rip up the schematic as soon as the servicing concludes, that she wouldn’t _dream of stealin’ a Xing design_ —though she pronounces the word with that Amestrisian _Shin_ that misses the tintinnabulation of the _ing_ and the drum-roll susurrus of the soft _X_. Yet Lan Fan keeps within her vision the sheet of paper pulled taut between two prongs so that Paninya needs only flick her gaze up to examine the arm.

“So Ling isn’t _really_ your real name, you mean?” the mechanic is saying. She has donned a pair of thick goggles with a second strap that wraps over the crown of her head and secured the rectangular palm of automail to a moveable stand.

“Neat, isn’t it?” Ling leans forward from his position by the sink and props his chin up in the arched palms of his hands. “That way when some vengeful spirit or mischievous god decides to snatch up a _Ling_ , they won’t know which Ling they’re talking about, and they might catch up someone else.”

Raising the stand up towards the light, Paninya inspects the first knuckle through the magnification goggles. “But if everyone’s tryin’ to do that, then mightn’t _you_ get up’n snatched for someone else’s trouble?” She twirls a metal finger between hers, and Lan Fan squeezes the thumb of her flesh hand.

To see an intrinsic part of her body detached, to survey another woman handle the steel bones and copper sinews of her limbs, to witness a disregard for the sacredness of life rivaled solely by the Amestrisian disregard for the sacredness of death—

For over a decade she has avoided healers. Dodged doctors’ prying instruments and slipped nimbly from the reach of physicians’ invasive digits.

Only two healers have attended to her more than once. Her grandfather, may he rest in peace, who had seen every centrimetre of her form since her birth. And May Chang, who taught her of the severity of war and inter-Clan fighting and to whom Master Ling has entrusted the inheritance of Xing until he preserves his own lineage. And after losing her arm, she allowed the doctor Knox into her inner circle from necessity. But in Amestris there exists a patient confidentiality that traps his tongue behind his teeth. And even if he spoke, the chance of news passing to relevant individuals hangs so near to zero, she scarcely considers it a possibility.

Besides, he said nothing. Perhaps in Amestris what lies within one’s undergarments matters little.

But beyond that, Lan Fan grants her body to no one. Even the man who crafted her automail merely measured her other arm and the stump of her left shoulder. When his gaze drifted towards her chest, she had to catch herself from shattering his jaw, and he must have recognised the not-so-subtle signalling.

And here, in a single second, Paninya has rendered her another appointment in the file. Has converted her to a broken series of scrap metal and twisted joints needing to be repaired. Has transmuted her into the tool she always was and will be.

Ling and Paninya chatter onwards about various aspects of Xing. From her rippling _chi_ , the woman seems genuinely curious. “—but I’ve already put into effect legislation outlawing the stoning of women for adultery,” Ling notes, his eyes open and focused, the issue tugging the arc of his mouth downwards. A mixture of anger and approval radiates from the mechanic covered in sweat, dirt, and a personal satisfaction that rings from the core of her pulse. “I can’t change everything all at once, and I don’t think that Amestris has all of the answers.” He winks. “No offence, but this isn’t exactly a bed of roses either. That’s the term, right?” Lan Fan dips her head. His hand as though he were about to reach for her, but he doesn’t move. “But the previous emperors closed off Xing’s borders. The country’s stagnated. I want to be the one that kicks the wagon’s wheel so it starts rolling down the hill, you know?”

“I gotta say that when I heard the damn Emperor of Xing was some seventeen-year-old punk kid. Some punk kid who dropped to a knee for Winry.” She chuckles, curses under her breath, switches out her current set of pliers for a small one. “I thought Xing was one messed up garbage dump of a backwards kinda people. But they’re in good hands. _And_ you guys are some smart motherfuckers.” Lan Fan cringes as her finger groans loudly, warningly, and Paninya grins at her progress. “I mean. Paper. Gunpowder. All that shit Amestris basically stole’n said _thanks for nothin’_. Plus that alkastry stuff is the neatest junk I’ve ever seen. It’s like alchemy but without the mess. Like someone took out the crap but kept the explosions and the saving people stuff. Heheh, I’ve gotta work on staying stuff like _stuff_ that often.”

“Alkahestry,” Lan Fan notes quietly. Ling beams that toothy crooked smile that spikes her heartbeat. She returns to staring at her automail. Paninya digs a couple of dark shades from a drawer and tosses one to her and one to him. “But yes. Neither Xing nor Amestris is perfect, but the people of Xing are altogether more pleasant and the land itself is much prettier. I’ve seen the desolate crags of the Briggs mountains, and they cannot compare to the winding Longji.” The mechanic flips a grey visor onto her face and instructs them don the shades snugly. The thick plastic fits awkwardly on her round face and pinches the ridge of her nose. The scent of oil, the dry heat, the unnaturally nasally vowels and quick-clipped, lazy consonants of the language bubble the stories of her homeland up from behind her breast. “They say that in the ancient world, when the lines between god and man were blurred, the god of the sea and the god of the land had created the rest of the Earth, but They met at the southern border of Xing where the land and sea collided. There They fought and nearly brought the infant world to ruin.”

“Mmhm,” says Paninya with an inflection so identical to Winry’s that Lan Fan’s lips curve of their own accord. “But the Earth isn’t a pancake of smashed crap, so what happened?”

The woman’s genuine intrigue and wonder give the vassal pause. The inside of her throat threatens to constrict her breathing. Suddenly she becomes aware of Ling’s presence beside her. His shoulder brushes against hers. “ _Are you all right_?” he whispers in Xingese.

For a fleeting moment gravity leans her against him. He has lowered his shirt and creased his collar to resemble a low-cut coat, his shoulders bare, and she senses the warmth of his skin through the abruptly overtly hot fabric of her outfit. She gives herself enough time to breathe—“ _Thank you for the concern, Master Ling_.”—before her heels hit the floor. “Would you mind if I removed my shirt?”

“If you don’t finish ya story, I might.” Paninya depresses the lever of the soldering tool twice; the nozzle bursts into sparks of flame. Averting her gaze, Lan Fan strips her top off with a professional quickness, neatly folding it to take up as little space as possible. “So who saved their holy asses?”

As she lays the black square onto the counter, she unknots her tongue. Her voice freezes the chasm between them into a bank of ice. “Do not disrespect the ancient gods.”

Paninya clicks off the torrent of flame and lifts her chin. Ling waves his hands as if clearing the room of a noxious stench. “Lan Fan?”

She bites her tongue. “My lord.”

A beat of irritation through his _chi_. “How you manage to be _perfectly_ respectful and _perfectly_ rebellious at the same time escapes me.” He throws up his arms in mock defeat. The mechanic snickers. “‘Ninya, if you could maybe not shove that Amestrisian arrogance into our ways? For the sake of my sanity, and hers.”

“Ninya.” Paninya laughs. “Didja know that that’s Aerugish for _girl_? At least, I think. Huh. I dunno.” She shrugs. “Okay. Sorry there, Lan Fan. Or as the Aerugish say, _lo sey-yento_. Blech, that didn’t sound right. Eh, I know more Aerugan than that.” Lan Fan blinks at the apparent disparity between _Aerugish_ and _Aerugan_. But already Paninya plows onwards. No time to rest, but all of the time in the world to grab for the horizon, to demand more, to never be satisfied with one’s place. “So tell me the story, Lan Fan.”

The vassal nods slowly and gathers her _chi_. “While the gods of sea and land dueled in the gray between-realm, the god of the sky heard the rumbles and descended from the heavens. Seeing the carnage that the two gods had wreaked in their jealousy, the god of the sky boomed with thunder and lightning. ‘Cease, you both,’ He stormed, and the two gods quelled Their fury. ‘I shall listen to your requests, and by dawn tomorrow I shall arrive at my decision.’

“The gods agreed. The god of the land spoke first, Her words even and slow as the patient earth. ‘I wish for more land upon the world, such that the men below will have place enough for their homes, for the courtyards they will build in their pursuit of steady prosperity, for their families, and for the forests and rice that will sustain them besides.’ Satisfied, the god of the land waited in Her fortified defence.

“‘The god of the sea spoke then, Her speech rolling and unpredictable as the temperamental ocean. ‘I wish for more sea upon the world, such that the men below will have place enough for their adventures, for the ships they will build in their pursuit of unknown horizons, for their families, and for the rivers and fish that will sustain them besides.’ Satisfied, the god of the sea waited in Her shifting proposal.

“‘The gods bowed to one another and returned to Their separate kingdoms for the night. The god of the sky deliberated as the moon rose and fell. He meditated upon His younger sisters’ conflict and upon humanity’s plight. At length He uncoiled His many kilometres and rode the wind to the basin of the world where the golden land of Xing and the golden sea of Xing met in the grey between-realm.

“The god of the land and the god of the sea awaited His decision patiently and impatiently in turn. ‘Great Brother,’ They called out as He approached, ‘tell Us of Your wisdom.’

“The god of the sky gestured to the grey between-realm. ‘Here is that which We shall do: This realm shall contain both the sea and the land at once.

“‘But how!’ cried His sisters.

“‘The curve of the realm shall be filled with sea, and shall dip into the basin, far lower beyond any sea below the Earth.’ He held up His hand, and the gods of sea and land quieted. ‘Yet the curve that would have been land shall be created also, and shall rise into the heavens, far higher beyond any other land upon the Earth. Thus the sea and the earth shall be sacred in one.’

“His sisters bowed at His wisdom. The god of the sea began to bring to life the sea, and the god of the land began to bring to life the land. With Their powers nearly spent, They feared that They could not create both sea and land of the same space. But what neither of Them knew was Their brother’s sacrifice. For when the mountains of sea and land grew, they pierced the skies, as He knew they would, and impaled His beating heart.”

Ling mouths an inaudible prayer. Frowning, Paninya cocks an eyebrow as she at last finishes the hand and commences on the wrist. “And then what?”

Lan Fan smiles. As a young child kneeling at her grandfather’s feet, listening to the stories of her people, the sacrifice comforted her. Since before the dawn of time, even the gods gave Their identities and lives for Xing, as she did. “His great form fell upon the Earth. His spine became the base of the land, so that the god of the land could finish the mountains towering overhead, and His tears filled the basin of the sea, so that the god of the sea could complete the ocean rippling underneath. Thus the ocean became known as Longlei, the Dragon’s Tears, and the mountains as Longji, the Dragon’s Spine. The sisters mourned for Their brother, and because the god of the sky was dead, humanity was given free reign of the land and the sea but never of the sky.” She inhales. “The story is one of compromise and of sacrifice. I have travelled over Amestris, and I see no fallen gods who loved Their world so much They would give up Their immortality for it.”

Paninya smirks. “Hey, I never said that Amestris is some kind of crock of gold at the end of anyone’s rainbow. But that’s a damn sad story.” Standing from her seat, she tosses the visor from her head, arches her back, cracks her spine and neck.

“A powerful one.” Ling quits the counter. “And one of my favourite stories.” His tone effects a hint of wistfulness. “I wish I could learn more about Amestris’s stories, too. Such a strange country, full of people willing to pay for poor beggars’ meals and who hit each other with wrenches in courtship . . .”

Winry’s _chi_ bursts into existence at the door. “I sense that someone _else_ would like to test out that courtship.”

Ling beams innocently. “Oh, praise my ancient ancestors, have you finally reconsidered my marriage proposal? As I told my advisers, I shall not settle for any mere woman. But an _imported_ woman, like fine imported wine, should be perfect.” She flicks her wrist and catches the wrench expertly on the descent. Instantly Lan Fan steps forward. Starts to lift her automail hand. Raises her flesh arm defensively. “Ah, thank you, my dear retainer.”

 _My dear_. The words burn into her cheeks, and she realises that she is posed on her toes in nothing but her loose trousers and her wrappings, flat against her chest. A shudder runs through her. Ling steadies her with a gentle touch to the flat of the back, just between her shoulder blades; liquid flame pours down her spine to pool at in her trembling legs.

“Hey, Pan.” Winry ducks under Ling’s arm to embrace her girlfriend from behind.

Paninya whirls around in her grip. “Hey, Win.” Smirking cheekily Winry cups one of Paninya’s breasts, her other hand cradling the woman’s jaw, and they kiss.

At the same time Ling and Lan Fan divert their gazes to meet accidentally. Ling offers her a one-sided smile. Lan Fan swallows down her blush.

“So,” Winry says loudly, pausing until the two turn back towards her where Paninya is now holding her so tenderly that the back of Lan Fan’s neck warms, “the Olivers are throwing a party for summer’s end, and they invited all of us. I mentioned that I had guests over. Well, all of us except for Aki.”

Ling cocks his head, and she’s reminded of the bird sigil of the Yao. “Why not Aki?”

“Because he’s underage, and there’re gonna be drinks there.” She winks. “Ling, you’re of age, right?”

He glances at Lan Fan, who looks away. Lying has never been her forte. Even Greed treasured truth above all, as the alchemists and alkahetrists treasure Truth. Yet he _is_ of age in Xing. “Hey, I’m the Emperor of Xing,” he responds briskly, thumbing at himself. “I think I can handle a little alcohol.”

She can’t stop the snorting laugh that erupts from her chest at the memory of him red-faced and heaving after an exploratory sip. Her grandfather would have beat him if not for the then-boy’s rank. “He means the first one, at least.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Yet his voice carries not a trace of upsetness, and for a moment she experiences a sensation of floating. A sound gathers on her tongue. She hides it behind her teeth and refuses to hear its promise. “Anyway, Lan Fan, you’re coming to the party, right?”

On one hand: Parties are noisy and rude and generally unpleasant. On the other: Compromise. Sacrifice. She bows her head. “Of course,” she says. Ling almost touches her bare arm; she steps forward, out of reach, and unfolds her shirt from its tight black square with one unsteady hand. “Of course I’ll go.”

But where, exactly?


End file.
